You Are Subject 12
by Mademoiselle Eva
Summary: You are Subject 12, and you have just been taken in by a young boy and his butler, the tall man in black.  A chronicling of Finny's first few days at the Phantomhive manor.
1. Chapter 1

You are Subject 12. You were kept locked in a room as long as you could remember, where scientists would come, and no matter how hard you tried to fight, they would hold you down anyways. But now you have been offered freedom, of a sort, from a strange pair, here on the street.

You are Subject 12, and the relationships of society, every intricacy between classes and inside classes, do not matter to you. The only relationships you understand are master and servant, captor and and captured. You were part of one, and now you are part of another; you are not sure how happy you are about this, and whether or not you actually have more freedom yet. Whether or not there is a difference.

Your room is gone, your prison. So is the pain of needles and testing and no freedom at all. Everything you knew is upset, and you're fairly certain you don't mind.

Your title, the only thing you had that made sure you were You, Subject 12, is gone, replaced by a weirdly common name. You are suddenly Finnian, and apparently, you are going to be a gardener. Never mind the fact that you have never touched a plant in your life, they would like you to learn, and the tall man in black will teach you. They told you their names, but your brain is fuzzy, like water flowing around. You're not good at remembering things.

Your master is 1/3 of a foot smaller than you, which is surprising, since you only stand at five foot four, according to the simple examination the man in black gave you. He was thankfully brief and didn't pry much; he let you borrow his jacket to hide the hospital gown you wore. It was large on you, but you wrapped it close, loving the feel of something so… not clinical.

_Your _growth was stunted by chemicals injected into you at a place you only remember as The Facility. But your employer has no reason such as that; he is merely a child. You know he's called an earl, but earls and dukes and counts and viscounts and wealthy merchants are all one big blob to you, the "richer than me" blob. You don't really know what it means that he's an earl, just that he's a child, and that he is way smarter than you are.

He can easily read the novels by Wilde and Bronte, while you struggle to learn how to write your own name, which is only four letters: one "F", two "i"s, three "n"s, and an "a". He is reading documents and writing eloquent letters while you try to figure out the difference between p and q and d and b. And he is about half your age, assuming you are in your late teens or early twenties, which is a fact you're really not sure about, since your birthday was never celebrated. In all honesty, you're not quite sure you have one. He is much smarter than you are, and he is half your age, and you feel incredibly, incredibly stupid.

The tall man in black is patiently telling you again that g-a-r-d-e-n makes a garden as in where you will spend the majority of your time. He patiently re-explains that a bed is both where you sleep at night AND where you plant flowers, and that you write it b-e-d and not d-e-b, and that yes, you must learn the difference between u and n and m and w, and p and q and b and d, because you need to know how to read seed packets, and no, Finnian, substituting a word that you know that looks similar is not good enough, because semi-sunlit and semi-shaded flowers are different than full sunlight and full shaded flowers, and perennial and annual flowers are different, too, and you need to know how frequently to water them.

But the words just won't stay still and organize themselves for you, no matter how hard you try, no matter what you do, and you've tried explaining this to the man in black (who you are beginning to remember as Mister Sebastian)but he just smiles and says to try again, until you just want to break down and cry because you _just can't do it_! You are Finnian, and you are confused, and you are frustrated, and you are incredibly scared that they are going to decide you are too stupid and send you back to being Subject 12, and you can't stand that thought.

You are Finnian, and you are awkwardly sitting on a plain bed in a room you share with two others. You like that; in The Facility, you were usually isolated. Now you have companions. But it's still awkward, and you run a hand over your shaved head nervously. Only one of your roommates is actually here, and he's a bit scary looking. Intense, with shaggy blond hair and bandages on his face. He has a cigarette, a delightfully unclean small. Your last bedroom smelled like disinfectant and other medical supplies, smells that would cause you to panic.

When he finally talks, it's with an accent you've never heard before. All the scientists were british. You cock your head, and realize that he had been talking to you, and now you're confused again. He repeats himself.

_What's your name?_

_Finnian_, you say, the sound rolling off your tongue, sweet as candy. Yes. You are Finnian now.

_Nice to meet you, Finny_, he says.

_Finnian_, you correct. The boy (whose name still escapes you, embarrassingly) and Mister Sebastian gave you a name, and you like it.

_Fine, Finnian_, he agrees, but by his tone you can tell he's going to call you Finny again anyways. You guess you don't mind, as long as he doesn't call you S-012. _My name's Baldroy_, he says, _but you can call me Bard._

_Bard,_ you repeat, then say it a couple more times, rolling it around in your mouth. You didn't know anyone's name at The Facility, just in case one of you escaped- as you, Finnian, once Subject 12, did. That way, you couldn't sell them out to the yard, even if you wanted to. Bard seems amused; you suppose most people don't sit repeating other people's names. _I'm bad at names, _you try to explain, then point at the empty bed. _Who sleeps there? _You ask, but you're pretty sure you know.

To your surprise, Bard tells you, _Tanaka_.

_Who's Tanaka?_

_He's the steward._

_What's a steward?_

_You're not bright, are you, kid?_ You blush. It's not your fault. Can't he tell that by your clothes? _Just joking, Finn…ian. A steward's like a butler, sorta._

_Like Mister Sebastian, you mean._

_Right. _You suppose that makes sense. Mister Sebastian can't take care of this entire big mansion by himself. That's why you're here, after all.

_What do you do?_

_I'm the cook. What about you?_

_I'm a gardener. That's what they said. Where does Mister Sebastian sleep?_

_You've got a lotta questions, kid. He's got a private room._

_Oh. _You ignore the part about having lots of questions. You would write down all the answers, if you could write. But you can't, and you're sure you'll have to ask half of these over again, but you're so curious about this world outside The Facility, you can't help yourself. _Are there any others?_

_Servants?_

_Yeah._

_Only one. Her name is MeyRin. She's a maid._

_Will I get to meet her?_

_I don't doubt it. There IS only four of us._

_Ok. _You lie down on your bed, exhausted by the day's events. They had found you last night, and you had been working with Sebastian all through the day. Well, working with him, and sometimes alone when Sebastian went to attend to your Master. You haven't had much to eat, your stomach used to small, plain meals, barely enough to keep you alive; you couldn't stomach much of the fancier food that Mister Sebastian brought you, but you didn't want to say so and look ungrateful. _Hey, Bard? _You ask, your voice tiny and timid.

_Yeah?_

_Were you found by Mister Sebastian and the young master, too?_

He stays quiet for a bit. _Just Sebastian._

_Oh._ You pause, mulling this over. _Are you happy to be here, too?_

_Yeah. I am._

You are fairly certain that you like the way things are going, now. You fall asleep on the plain little bed.

You are Finnian, once called Subject 12, the gardener for your new young master. And for the first time in your young life, you have big hopes for your future.


	2. Chapter 2

Hi all, I realized I never introduced myself. I'm Eva, devoted Black Butler (Kuroshitsuji) fangirl and amateur authoress. That's all you really need to know without going to my profile, right? XD Thanks for all the positive feedback. Even if I don't respond, I do read it and it gives me the warm fuzzies. About this story: apparently it turned into an ongoing fic? I honestly don't know, but my friend insists on me giving her more of it (I tried to write "part two of two" on the top of this and she scratched out the second two and wrote the infinity symbol instead). So, I guess I'll be writing more. Um, ok. XD If you have any ideas for me, whether it's what to do in later chapters of this fic, or a request for another fic (I write in third person as well as second, for the record), I would be happy to hear them! Thanks, and hope you enjoy. -Eva

Oh! And this was beta'd by the lovely and talented theslyknave. Look her up- she's just put in an official beta reader form! Much love.

oOo

You are Finnian, and you have a tendency to not sleep well. This is why you are awake at 3 in the morning, staring at the ceiling and trying to convince yourself that panicking would not be the best of ideas. Slowly you realize you're free, you're still in the manor, and you're not being sent back. At least, you aren't _yet_. You sit up carefully, your eyes taking in every feature of the room. There's Bard in the bed in the middle, Tanaka on the one against the wall, and you are in the bed closest to the door and window. You asked for it, because you like having options, in case you need to escape on short notice.

In case things go bad.

Looking out the window, you pull your knees up to your chest, face thoughtful. You wish you had some actual pajamas- you're still in the dreadful hospital robe, though you're trying your best to hide it beneath Mister Sebastian's coat, which he graciously let you keep. Mister Sebastian had given you his sincere apology, but said that there weren't clothes ready for you yet. You had nodded, understanding.

After almost an hour of gazing at the moon, you realize you are still very tired. Sleepless nights you spent pressed into the corner where your unadorned mattress met the wall, fearful of a nighttime attack by your captors, the scientists, were taking their toll on you. You want to stay up; you're still scared. But your body is screaming for sleep. You suppose a little sleep wouldn't hurt, and you sink down into the clean cotton sheets, which you bet were changed recently, which is a luxury you're not used to.

The next time you wake up, no one is in the room with you, and you open your mouth to scream your terror, sure that it meant it was a trap. But before you can utter a sound, a gloved hand is over your mouth.

_Calm down, Finnian. It's ten o' clock, and the young master is at work. I decided to let you sleep late. I think I'm right in presuming you're dreadfully lacking in sleep time?_ You can't answer him; you're still quaking, though your heart is beginning to slow to a more regular pace. _Bard and Tanaka are at their positions already. Soon you'll have to wake up with them, at six in the morning._ You nod, and he slowly takes his hand away from your mouth. _Better?_ He smiles, and you nod again, not trusting your words.

He holds out a box you didn't realize he had. _These are for you._ You open it, gingerly, and inside are a pair of orange plaid shorts and a cream colored shirt.

_For me?_

_Of course. A servant of Phantomhive must always look their best._ You pick up the shirt, which is on top, and examine it. Comfortable cream cotton, like the comfortable white sheets you're still sitting on. _These are also yours._ He places by your feet garden boots, and on your lap, a large straw sunhat.

_Why a hat?_ It would look silly, since you have no hair to go under it.

_Well, you don't have to wear it on top of your head._

_What do you mean?_ You wish he'd just lay things out for you the first time. The more you have to ask, the stupider you feel.

_Your tattoo. You dislike it, do you not?_

_I hate it. I hate it and I wish I didn't have it. _The words spring out before you can think.

Mister Sebastian takes the hat and places it on your head. He kneels in front of you and ties it loosely under your chin, and then pushes it back. It falls off your head and sits on the back of your neck, held perfectly in place by the knot he's made.

_Oh!_ You go to touch your tattoo, but your fingers meet the resistance of the hat. _Thank you, Mister Sebastian._

_Think nothing of it. After all, the hat came from young master Ciel._

_Master Ciel got this for me?_ You try to turn your head to look at it, an attempt made in vain since it's directly behind where your eyes are located.

_Indeed. The young master sees to it that all his servants are cared for._ He stands up with a smile. _Now, I believe you've met Bard, but have yet to actually meet Tanaka or MeyRin, is that so?_

_Right._ You notice he says 'actually meet'- does he know you were up in the early hours, worrying about your fate, fearful of the scientists even now?

_Well then, I believe it's time for introductions. I will wait outside the door; come out once you've changed clothes, and we'll go to find MeyRin._ You nod, and he leaves.

You reach into the box and lay out your new clothes on your bed, looking over them again. You take off Mister Sebastian's too big coat, which you slept in, the sensation of comfy-warm still an absolutely novel idea to you, and place it carefully beside your new clothes. The hospital gown you let drop, and then wriggle into your new clothes, which fit perfectly, big enough to be comfortable and small enough to fit your petite frame.

Impulsively, you grab the hospital gown and tear it, letting your rarely-existent anger get the better of you. You rip and tear and suddenly there are lines of tears on your face, and you are on your knees and there is a pile of ruined fabric in front of you, and you are covering your face with your hands and crying.

You let the tears fall from your thin face. You don't care who knows- in fact, you've rather forgotten that there's anyone who might even care about the fact that you're crying in the first place. The tears just won't stop, a strange contradiction of relief and frustration, joy and fear. All your thoughts are tumbling around in your head, running into each other, each wanting their turn in the spotlight, which is just confusing you even more.

The door opens, and in comes Mister Sebastian. You look up, then down, and reach to rub your eyes on your sleeve, but he offers you a handkerchief. You take it with a hiccup and dry your eyes.

_I'm sorry. _You look back to the pile of fabric scraps now sitting in front of you.

_No matter. _He scoops the wrecked gown into his arms. _It was going to be burned anyways._

_Burned? _You feel a weight you never noticed lift from your chest.

_Yes, burned. _You wonder if he's getting impatient with you and your stupid echoes. _We'll go to the incinerator first, then, and meet with the others._

_Ok. _You have the feeling that no one argues with Sebastian. That you always yield to whatever the head butler wills. He leaves the room and you trot after, walking fast to keep up with his long, brisk strides. You feel very short next to him, since he's over half a foot taller than you are. You clasp your hands behind your back to give them something to do. You would hum, but it would be an aimless tune, since they never played music at The Facility. So instead, you follow Mister Sebastian in silence.

The two of you reach a room in the basement with a large furnace, and you instinctively shy away from the crackling flames. Mister Sebastian does not share your apprehension, however, and walks straight up to the contraption. He tosses in the scraps, and you look away as the fire turns fantastic colors, reacting to the chemicals still clinging to the fabric.

_Oh dear. I should have thought of that. With luck, it won't ruin the furnace. _He looks mildly interested, and you feel like you should apologize, but you're not quite sure why. It's not like you asked to have chemicals around you, on you. You can still feel your skin crawl, tingling after injections or sprays that would resign you to your bed for weeks- just because a group of sadists in white coats were curious as to what would happen.

_Ah well. _He dusts his hands off and turns back to you with that politely meaningless smile. _It can't be helped now. _You nod hesitantly, and he walks past you and through the door. _Come along, Finnian._

You tag along again, wanting to ask so many questions, but at the same time you don't want to bother him. So you follow along in a heavy silence until you reach the kitchens. You hear a crash, followed by a feminine voice.

_Oh, I've messed up again! Mister Sebastian will kill me!_

_He can't blame you. _That's Bards voice, low and laid back. _Your glasses aren't in yet._

_You know very well it IS my fault, and so will Mister Sebastian. _Mister Sebastian looks at you and raises an eyebrow, and then pushes open the door.

_I will know __what __is your fault? _His voice is dangerously quiet, but still polite. You wonder if he's ever **not **polite. You peek around him, and you see a young woman with dark red hair and the most striking brown eyes you've ever seen. At her feet is a pile of broken china. _Ah. _He doesn't wait for Bard or the young woman to speak. _I see._

_I'm sorry, Mister Sebastian! _The girl blushes. She looks away, seemingly unwilling to meet the butler's eyes.

_No matter. _But unlike when he said it earlier, his voice is frosty. It has the undercurrent that says it **does **matter, and that he is not pleased. _MeyRin, meet the newest staff member. This is Finnian. Finnian, MeyRin._

You shyly step out from behind Mister Sebastian. _Nice to meet you, MeyRin. _She nods succinctly, those intense eyes looking you over. You feel very self-conscious all of a sudden, sure she's going to find something displeasing about you and that a bad assessment would send you away.

There is a slight chance you have slight abandonment or attachment issues. That, or you really really **really** hate the Facility. Both are entirely possible.

Finally she stops looking you over and nods again. _Nice to meet you._

_And where is Tanaka? _Mister Sebastian asks, looking around. Bard gives a half shrug.

_We're not quite sure. He was here a while ago, but then said he had something to take care of. Guess he's doing whatever that is._

_I... see. Well, you'll just have to introduce him later; I have business to attend to. I presume that the two of you can take care of Finnian for now. _Again without waiting for a response, Mister Sebastian is gone, leaving you standing awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen.

_You need breakfast, Finny. _Bard starts looking through cabinets. He pulls out bread and jelly and hands them to you. You take them gratefully, though you've never made your own food before. He finds a knife for you to cut the bread and spread the jelly and attempts to hand it to you. You back off quickly.

_Ah, please! _Images flash in your mind as you stare at the blade, terrified. You know he has no intent to harm you, but you spent far too much time around scientists with scalpels to trust knives.

The three of you freeze- you embarrassed and scared, Bard confused, and MeyRin neutrally observing. Slowly Bard sets the knife down on the counter and takes a few steps back. You grab the knife and skitter back, setting the tool and your food on the counter next to you, away from them. Silently, shame burning on your young face, you start to make yourself a sandwich.

_You're a bit twitchy, aren't you, Finny? _MeyRin leans on a counter near Bard. You can feel their eyes on you, and you reach up to make sure your hat's still in place before you answer.

_A bit. Bad memories. _You take a bite of sandwich, hoping that will make them drop it. You shake your head to yourself; your first slices were too wide. Too much bread in one bite. Oh well, you suppose you'll learn eventually.

_We all have our skeletons here. _You look up, and Bard's eyes have pity in them. MeyRin nods, agreeing with him. _If you wanna share yours, go ahead. We won't judge._

_Can't, _MeyRin corrects. _We can't judge._

_Right. We can't judge. But if you want to keep it to yourself, well, that's all right too._

_Thanks. _Your voice is muffled, between the last of your heavily-bready sandwich and your relief. You begin making more sandwiches, some for you and some for your coworkers. You didn't realize how starved you were until you were eating a simple meal, one that didn't overload your senses.

_Don't mention it. _Bard grins at MeyRin. _You should get back to work before Sebastian comes back and flusters you again. _MeyRin blushes and pushes his shoulder.

_It's not nice to tease a lady!_

_I'm not, I'm teasing you. _They continue to squabble good-naturedly, and you smile. Bard turns back to his cooking, and MeyRin starts cleaning up the china, and you wonder if this is what a family is like. Even though they're teasing each other, you can tell that they're friends, bonded at least in part by the contract that is working at Phantomhive manor, a bond that technically, you share, even if you had to write "Subject Number 12, Finnian" and you had to copy Mister Sebastian's writing, and you're pretty sure you accidentally wrote "Sudject Nudmer 12" instead, because you really don't have this writing thing down.

The important part is that they're friends, and you have something in common with them. So maybe soon, you hope, they'll be your friends too.

You are Finnian, and you finally have a home.

oOo

There is a part 3 partially written. I like writing as Finny. He's a sweetheart and deserves more love. XD


	3. Chapter 3

I'm so sorry for not uploading recently! And this isn't as good as the others, I don't think… argh, my many apologies! Thank you so much for all the reviews and watches. I promise to have a better chapter out soon, it's just that school (and another writing project of mine) are sucking up a lot of time! So again, thank you, and I hope you enjoy this short semi-chapter.

oOo

You are Finnian, and you are asleep. You're having a bad dream, some cross between nightmare and distant memory. Or perhaps it's just the story you told yourself to make yourself happy at the Facility. You're not quite sure anymore.

_You are small, only about eight years old, sucking on your fist, as if that will alleviate the hunger in your belly or your heart. You watch from a distance as a ragged but pretty young woman you recognize as "Mama", with her blond hair, same as you, talks to some men in white coats. Around her shoulders is the arm of an equally ragged man you recognize as "Papa", who shares your emerald eyes, which were always called pretty by the women of your village. You don't know what they're saying, but Mama is crying and Papa is explaining something in his low, soothing voice._

_Distantly you hear the background noise you've become used to; the crying of your little brothers and sisters, almost all of them as hungry as you. But you are definitely the hungriest. As the older, it's your job to see everyone else is fed first. Many times you and Mama and Papa have gone without so that the babies can eat. You can't remember what 'not hungry' feels like. You edge closer so you can hear what they're saying._

_"He'll be safe, won't he?" Mama is asking, her voice harsh from crying. "A warm bed, good food, you promise?"_

_"Of course, madam," they assure her, and you wonder who they're talking about, and why they're making your Mama cry._

_"Will we ever see him again?" she asks softly, hands clasped at her heart._

_"Undoubtedly," is the answer. She nods, still looking miserable. She turns, and you're surprised to see her look directly at you._

_"Come here, poppet," she says, voice shaking. You rush to those warm, safe arms, and she enfolds you in a hug, her tears falling into your shaggy hair._

_"Now, son," Papa says, "you're going to stay with these men for a while, understand?"_

_"Why?" you ask, wide-eyed. You'd never been apart from Mama and Papa before._

_"It'll help us out," Papa answers. "Food and clothes for the babies, you know? You'll have your own room, and good food, too. Doesn't that sound good?" You nod; it really does. Too good to be true. Your mother sets you down and you take one man's hand with a beam. He smiles at you almost sadly, and the three of you are almost to the roat, at the end of the long dirt path, before you hear Mama's scream._

_"Wait! I changed my mind! My son, give me back my son! Take your money, give him back to me! My __**son**__!"_

You sit up with a gasp, the maybe-memory once again distant and elusive in you conscious state. All you can remember is two echoing words, as you place your head in your hands and begin to cry.

_"My son!"_

oOo

Authors notes:

My friend (theslyknave on FF) and I agreed that we liked the idea of Finny's parents being kind, but poor. We liked the idea that they really, honestly thought they were doing something right for Finny. They just... messed up, big time.

That said, this also could be a story Finny dreamed up to make himself happier and just BELIEVE that he had parents who loved him and didn't just want to make a quick buck. Of course, if this is the case, he added in a buncha siblings because can't you see Finny as a little boy playing with all the other little kids? He's a cutie.

So you can take the "d'aw" background or the "b'aw" one, whichever makes you happy.

(Again, sorry for the short fail-chapter, I hope to have something nicer up soon.)


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